The World Through Emerald Eyes
by Fanfiction Love 2006
Summary: Harry's life would have been very different if his childhood had been better. Sometimes it's the smallest things that have the biggest changes. And when Harry grows up in a better life with better circumstances, the story changes. If he can't escape his fate, he sure as hell will travel the path the way he wants.
1. Chapter One (Prologue)

_Welcome to my new story! This idea has been festering in my head for a while and I'm glad I was able to get this out. Let's see where it goes together, shall we? _

_As of now, I don't plan to make a pairing - and you'll see why soon enough - but it's not out of the realm of possibilities just yet. Anyway, enjoy this new story as I hope this soon to unravel plot will be revealed as something yet to be done!_

_Please Review. :)_

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><p><em><strong>The World Through Emerald Eyes<strong>_

_**Chapter One**_

As the lights on Privet Drive flickered on one by one, two shadows disappeared with pop in the night. But it was when the loud reeve of an engine sounded that the lights of number four came to life.

"Hello?" a suspicious voice of a woman sounded through the crack of her front door. The shine from within illuminated the porch of her home. When no reply was returned, a head was stuck out to glance around. It was a long face, not one commonly considered pretty – or even average. In fact, many people would consider her common or below standard. But it was her eyes that, if caught for more than a moment, would earn a double look.

Petunia Dursley was a sour faced woman who was often compared to a horse in whispers of neighborhood children. Tall and skinny with a curt tone, it was her eyes that were often overlooked; gray with hints of lovely emerald green melted in. Her gaze, while cautious and commonly accusatory, held a warmth of love and acceptance. Her demeanor hid any sort of kindness her eyes might express, and because of that, she was usually judged much too quickly.

"What's wrong, love?" came a male voice, deeper and over-cultured as if to express superiority to everyone else.

The woman's lips pursed tightly as her head turned left, then right. "Nothing, darling. Just delinquents," she surmised, voice chilled with disapproval.

"Now, Petunia, it's just young boys playing fun. I used to do it too as a boy." The owner of the voice was a large man, presumably about six feet and severely over weight. He had a large mustache and resembled a whale. He, like his wife, was also talked about by the children and their parents.

The couple were notorious for their clean home and cared for yard. Petunia Dursley's flowers were the best outside a top dollar boutique. Her husband, a Mr. Vernon Dursley, was high in his company at Grunnings and up for another promotion. His checks paid for their new car, and the charity donations made routinely to the church and hospitals. Despite their looks, they were looked upon highly in their community, something the Dursley's were proud of.

"Well, it's not polite, Vernon," Petunia replied and crossed her arms over his chest, the pink bathrobe snug around her odd frame.

"It's nothing, Pet. I'll have a talk with some of the men in the company. I'm sure some of them have sons who know what's going on. But truly, it's just their right of passage." The large man carelessly dismissed the whole act, but a smile tugged at his lips, unseen under his mustache.

The woman sighed. "You're right." She looked down on reflex to ensure that no dirt got on her night slippers when she spotted a bundle of blankets lying in a particular shape. She gasped. "Vernon!" she cried, urgent, but trying to remain soft.

Vernon's form lumbered over to see over his wife's shoulder and his eyes widened. "Petunia?" He asked, at a loss.

Petunia didn't hesitate. With new – and still developing – motherly instincts, she scooped up the bundle, and sure enough, there was a small whimper. "Vernon. Vernon! It's a baby," she cried in outrage and disbelief.

The pale skin of an infant was the first thing Petunia glanced at, followed by chubby cheeks, slightly blue-ing lips, and black hair. A curious, thunderbolt-shaped scar marred the baby's forehead.

"His lips! They're practically blue!" Vernon erupted. "Take him inside and warm the lad up. I'll call the police."

Petunia was already in the house by the time her husband's words reached her ears. Who would abandon a child on a doorstep in the middle of the night? A cold night at that! And without so much curtacy as to ring the doorbell! If the loud sound of a motorbike hadn't awoken her, who's to say the baby would have been found before morning? Her new instincts cried and raged at the injustice done to this child. "Who are his parents?" she asked, more to no one than to her husband who waddled to the phone.

"I don't know, but I'll be sure to find out! What kind of neighborhood did we move in to?" he demanded.

"Shh!" Petunia hushed him immediately, one hand moving to press the blanket closer to the baby's ears to muffle the shout. "Don't wake him." Her own son slept soundly throughout most nights, so she wasn't worried about him waking.

The action of moving the covering caused a rustling sound and when Petunia looked, she saw a letter fluttering to the ground. Her eyes took in the address and hurried to call Vernon off his rampage. "Stop! Don't call the police!"

Vernon glanced at his lovely wife. "What's wrong, Pet?" The phone sat in his hand, at a halt.

She glanced down and after a moment, picked up the letter, careful to cradle the child in her arms safely. She stared at the letter for a long time.

"Petunia?"

Her eyes dragged up to meet her husband's gaze. Almost deathly slow, she turned the letter over and showed him the front.

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley

Number four Privet Drive

Surrey, England

The phone fell to the floor with a thud. "What the ruddy hell is going on?!"

Petunia shook her head absently, mouth caught open. A sudden chill roused the air and a harsh shudder took her by surprise. "I don't like this, Vernon," she she whispered. "Something doesn't feel right." Her voice was pitched slightly higher with fear.

The baby in her arms began to move around restlessly and she automatically started lightly rocking the infant, cooing softly in a calming manner, all the while staring at the note her husband finally took from her dead hand, scared and anxious.

Vernon's large mustache twisted on his lips as his small eyes glared beedily down at the letter. "We should call the police," he told his wife again, looking up. "They'll want to see the letter unopened, otherwise they might think we have something to do with this whole thing."

She shook her head. "We can't! A letter to us is incriminating in itself!" Their reputation, Dudley's future, their lives, all suddenly tossed away because someone dropped off a baby. The neighbors would talk nonstop about how the Dursley's had to know some unsavory people and how they weren't the people they were thought to be.

Petunia's mind rebelled at the horror inside her.

"You're right," Mr. Dursley stated at last. "But we should open in – just to know what's going on!" he rushed on when Petunia opened her mouth to object. "If there's anything bad, we burn it and tell the police the child was abandoned here with no information."

She bit her lip at she gently bounced the baby in her arms, careful not to wake him. "I really don't like this," she reiterated in a mutter, but made no move to stop her husband from opening the paper.

"Not even good paper," Vernon roughly commented. "Feels like they made it in their backyard." He huffed. "Can't even manage –" The words died in his throat and his face paled before turning a ferocious red. "What is this nonsense!?" he demanded, enraged.

His wife had no time to hush her husband as he reached over and roughly handed the paper – old parchment really, to his wife. She managed to grab it before her husband lost his temper and began raging in their living-room.

She hadn't noticed at first, what with the years having taken many things from her mind, but when she saw the neat handwriting, stylized so singularly by one person, her heart stuttered in her chest. It was Albus Dumbledore's handwriting. She remembered from childhood, that single moment of weakness when she sent the 'headmaster' a letter requesting to join her sister at his 'school.' The man had promptly replied and for a moment, Petunia had thought he had accepted. But it had all been for naught.

Polite and to the point, Albus had gently informed her that only children who were magical could go to Hogwarts and that, as a muggle, she wouldn't have been allowed past the defenses of the school.

The gentle let down had crushed her along with any possible acceptance of her sister's placement there. They had always been close and Petunia had loved her sister dearly, but she couldn't stand how easy it had been for Lily to abandon her. It was still a hard blow and her heart ached in a hollow memory.

She and Lily hardly spoke anymore. In fact, the last time they had seen each other was when Lily had come by to personally deliver an invitation for her and Vernon to attend her and James' wedding.

Petunia would have gone, truly she would, if only it hadn't been held in the wizarding world. Of course their parents went and were excited for their youngest, but Petunia couldn't manage to do it. Lily had explained how she and James had managed to get clearance for her muggle family to attend her wedding since they had decided to do it the traditional way of her fiance's culture.

Again, Lily had chosen the ways of her new life over her old one. She had practically given up living anywhere Petunia could go on a regular basis, and Petunia was furious. She wouldn't stand for being second place to everything in Lily's mind. If she wasn't good enough to be put first in front of those – those freaks, then so be it.

And yet, here it was. The names Lily and James seemed to jump out at her from random places in the letter and she felt sick.

She started to read.

_November 1, 1981_

_Dear Vernon and Petunia Dursley,_

_It is to my great sorrow that I am left to inform you of the deaths of your sister Lily, and her husband James last night. _

_For the past year, both Lily and James had been in hiding as the war with Voldemort got worse as it was believed he would seek out their son. While battling the darker forces for the past few years had kept them from contacting you, I was certain you would want to know what has been happening._

_While great Aurors, the couple chose to go into hiding when they discovered Voldemort would have a particular interest in their yet unborn son Harry James Potter. The last year was difficult for them, raising their son in such limited and harsh circumstances, but I assure you, they were as happy as they could be, given the situation._

_They spent the last year of their lives loving young Harry. Unfortunately, it wasn't meant to be. The man believed to be their best friend, Sirius Black, was a Death Eater; a follow of Voldemort, and told him of their location._

_They fought valiantly to the end, I can promise you that. While it is no consolation, I feel it imperative you know that. _

_It wasn't enough, however. On October 31st, Voldemort stormed you sister's home and killed both James and Lily. He had turned his wand on Harry, only to find him protected be old magic your sister enacted. Voldemort fell and Harry survived._

_Harry has nowhere to go. In their wills, Lily and James left Harry to Mr. Black who is now on the run. I'm not sure how much you know about their friend Remus Lupin, but due to circumstance, I don't believe him fit to take in Harry. That leaves only you, Harry's closest family by blood._

_Harry is being hailed as the Boy-Who-Lived in our world, a hero in every sense. It is unsafe for him to be here at this time as there are still followers of Voldemort who would seek to do him harm. It would be best if he were left in your care in the muggle world where no one would think to look for him._

_The magic Lily did last night protected Harry and now that protection resides with him always within his blood. When you take him in, wards will activation over your home and keep you safe from Death Eaters. I also took the initiative to add some of my own upon arrival. No one will be able to hurt Harry or your family whilst you live here. Nothing magical that I haven't personally approved of will be able to enter your home._

_I ask that you please look after Harry and tell him where he comes from; how his parents didn't die in vain and how they loved him very much._

_I once more sincerely express my condolences for your loss._

_With great sorrow,_

_Albus Dumbledore  
>Headmaster of Hogwarts<em>

Petunia couldn't even hear the blood rushing in her veins. Her eyes were clouded in tears and an all enveloping depression to hold. Her body was cold and rapidly feeling empty entirely as grief built.

"Petunia?" she heard from what seemed like far away.

Her head turned mechanically towards the voice of her husband.

"Oh love, don't cry." He walked up to his wife and wrapped his arms around her. He made sure he didn't suffocate the child still in her arms.

It was then that Petunia let herself go and broke into sobs. "M-my sister! Vernon! Th-ey took my sister fr-from me! Lily, sweet- sweet Lily!" she cried and bean to hiccup. An anger festered in the back of her mind. Anger at the world that took her sister from her, anger at her sister who willing gave up her old life for the new and exciting one. And anger at the child in her arms, her nephew that was the product of that life and the personification of everything that world was.

Her eyes flickered down to the infant against her will and to her surprise, the child was awake. But more shocking, was the bright emerald green gaze that seemed to burn into her. Eyes that belonged to her sister. All at once, that anger was gone. Grief still ate at her, but she fought it.

Harry watched Petunia right back and didn't seem to make a sound. Instead, when Vernon pulled away to see what had stopped his wife's tears, his little arms reached up towards her and a happy gurgle left his lips.

With another sob, Petunia changed her hold on the infant and brought him to her shoulder in a well practiced move. "Harry, I'm so sorry," she told him through her tears and clung to the baby as tight as she dared. "I'm so, so sorry."

She hadn't realized she had dropped the letter until she saw Vernon lean over to pick it up. He looked it over, taking more time than before and she realized he hadn't read all of it before.

She hadn't kept her sister's freak life from her husband and he hadn't liked it either, but agreed that as long as it was kept from him, he would deal with it. Years later, things had been great, only strained when any correspondence – as little as it was – had arrived from Lily.

She watched Vernon cautiously, unsure how he would take the full news. She feared for her nephew, her life with her husband, her own son, sleeping soundly and unaware in his crib. When Vernon looked up, apparently finished, and met her eyes, she deflated in relief. There was no hate in his eyes.

"What do we do?" she asked him, still fearful of both the future and the current predicament. Steeling herself, she told him, "I won't give up Harry."

Vernon sighed. "Then we keep him." He shook his head. "I don't like this headmaster character, Petunia. Not one bit. Dumping this baby on a doorstep without enough consideration or care as to ring the ruddy doorbell. Or hell, even to wait and explain this to us in person! I can't say that I trust his judgment at all as to say who could enter our home. We don't need his permission or his interference!" He moved over to the table and picked up the phone.

Petunia watched him put the phone back on it's charger and pick up the pad and pen beside it.

"Tomorrow we put this place up for sale. I won't have any of those freaks in our lives and I don't like them knowing where we live. Grunnings has a branch in London that offers larger wages anyway." He marked something down on the pad.

Petunia's jaw dropped. "But you said you would never be caught dead living in London."

He glanced at her before refocusing on what he was doing. "There are more people there and they'd be less likely to interfere if there were more people around. Didn't you say they don't want to be exposed? The Statute of Whatnot, right? They'd think twice before stopping by. Besides, it's probably better for Dudley to grow up in a larger place where he can spread his wings."

Vernon's mustache twitched as he continued. "We also go to the police and report finding a baby on our doorstep. We can't very well tell him that he's our nephew without proof." He nodded to himself. "We'll officially adopt him. Those freaks should have nothing to do with my family and if he's going to be with us, he'll be raised right. Like a Dursley."

Petunia was crying again as she watched her husband make plans for their future. Sometimes she grew complacent with her life, comfortable and routinely happy. But it was times like this when she saw the man she fell in love with again, so obvious and there. A man that loved her and wanted to take care of them both. Now three of them and soon to be four.

Vernon Dursley had a big heart even if it was well hidden.

"After that, we get settled in our new home with Harry and live normally with two sons. We'll raise them well and not have to deal with any problems from _them_."

"But what about that _school_? The Headmaster is bound to come looking for him." Petunia couldn't think such a manipulative man would leave them alone.

Vernon sighed and closed his eyes as he rotated his shoulder. "We'll deal with that when it comes." He hesitated and looked back at his wife. "We shouldn't keep his past from him," he began, clearly grudgingly. "Not if it's going to be affecting his future which in turn is our future. But not until he's older."

Petunia smiled a watery grin. "I agree."

Vernon smiled gently at his wife and walked over to pull her into another hug. "Don't worry Petunia, dear. We'll work this all out. It will be fine. _We'll_ be fine."

And she believed him.


	2. Chapter Two

_**The World Through Emerald Eyes**_

_**Chapter Two**_

_Ten Years Later..._

"I told you, I'd win," Dudley Dursley boasted, putting his bike in the garage. "Pay up!" He held out his hand with a satisfied grin.

Harrison Hawthorne Dursley scoffed and reached into his pocket to get the five pounds his mother had given him last week and tossed them at his brother. "Whatever. If it weren't for me, you'd be fat and lazy," he told Dudley.

Harrison was a healthy eleven year old boy around five feet who played a lot of soccer. While athletic, he was solid rather than thin, but no where near heavy looking. His hair was cut in a way that made his messy black nest look like it was meant to be in disarray – the only way to wear it, his mother always said. He wore thin silver framed glasses that showed off his more aristocratic features that he had inherited from his birth father, and brought attention to the emerald eyes of his birth mother. Even at such a young age, Harrison had many fans amongst the girls in school.

His brother was a little shorter than him, hitting four feet eleven inches, but was thicker around. He had his father's bulk of bone, but after taking up sports with his brother, had run most of it off. He tended to wrestle with friends and play football, so he carried more muscle than his brother.

Despite being biologically cousins, both boys grew up closer than brothers. They had a lot in common and enjoyed hanging out with friends and playing games. Harrison was better in school while Dudley was more popular, but neither held it against the other. Rather, they made a point to tease each other about it.

Dudley pushed his brother back and ran into the house shouting, "You wish!"

Harrison was quick to follow, copying Dudley as he tossed off his shoes in the entry way. "You know I'm right!"

"Boys, no running in the house!" their mother called from the kitchen.

Dudley paused on the top step and both boys locked eyes as they winced. "Yes, mom!" they called as one.

After that, they tried to run up the stairs as quietly as possible.

"Get back here, fatso!" Harrison demanded, managing to catch Dudley before he shut the door to his room and tackled him to the floor. "Admit that I'm right! Do it!"

"Never, nerd!" Dudley denied and tossed the other off him.

"Idiot!"

"Loser!"

"Jerk!"

"Freak!"

Harrison froze and his smile fell from his lips immediately.

Dudley realized his mistake instantly and scrambled to stand up. "Harry, I'm sorry," he told him. "I didn't mean it." He reached over and put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I promise."

Harrison shook his head and sighed and turned his gaze to the floor with a shrug. "I know you didn't mean it. Guess it doesn't matter though, does it? I am a freak."

"No you're not!" Dudley quickly interjected. "You're normal. Just like mom and dad." He nodded to back up his words.

Harrison glanced at his brother. "Except that I'm a wizard with magic and can talk to snakes," he replied in a self-deprecating tone. He brushed off Dudley's hand and ignored how his jaw dropped open in surprise.

"Don't say that!" Dudley rushed to say.

Harrison scowled and stood up straight. "It's true! I can do _freaky_ things because I'm a _ freak_ with _freaky_ abilities. I'll never be normal."

Dudley scowled right back and crossed his more muscled arms over his chest. "Your parents were freaks. It's not like you had a choice. So you're part freak, not all freak." He was deadly serious as he glared and tried to force the words into his brother's head. "You choose to be normal. That's what counts." This was a conversation that they had many times over the years and Dudley could be no more certain that Harrison was 'normal'.

Harrison opened his mouth to reply when they heard a deeper voice call out, "Boys! Come to the living-room, please!"

"Dad's home?" Harrison asked, surprised. It was Thursday and only one in the afternoon. Their dad should still be at Grunnings.

"Yeah, that's weird," Dudley agreed and together they made their way down the stairs. "Wonder what's wrong."

"Thing Mrs. Marks found the mouse you let loose in her house?" Harrison whispered, worried. He had helped catch it, after all. The last prank they did landed them three weeks grounding. Just because they got mom to let them off after four days didn't matter. They didn't want their dad mad at them again.

Dudley's face paled. "Shit, I hope not."

Harrison tisked. "Language Dudders. What would mom say?" he teased. He jumped out of the way when Dudley went to punch him and ran to the living-room, skidding to a stop in the doorway when he saw how serious his parents were. He only moved when Dudley bumped into his from behind, not quite able to stop himself in time.

"Mom? Dad?" Harrison asked hesitantly. "What's going on?"

Dudley, having sensed the atmosphere as quickly as his brother, straightened up and stood quietly, waiting to be reprimanded. But when it didn't come immediately, both boys shared a confused look.

Petunia shared a strained glance with her husband and worried over the purplish hue of his face before she turned to face her two amazing sons. "Boys, we have some news."

"Come sit down," Vernon interrupted and pointed to the couch.

With another look, Harrison and Dudley did as their father bid. They silently faced their parents, more worried than before.

Harrison spotted the streamer from this morning, happily proclaiming, "Happy Eleventh Harrison!" and instead of smiling, he felt a bad twist in his gut. "Why are you home so early, dad?" he asked when his mom didn't move to continue.

"Your mother called me after receiving some... news," he replied, face darkening.

"What news?" Dudley asked fearfully, mind still clearly on the mouse sitting in Mrs. Mark's cupboard.

Vernon didn't look away from them, but Patunia looked down at her hands, apron still on from working in the kitchen. "Today is your eleventh birthday Harrison, and we couldn't be happier," she started, hesitant and slightly stumbling over her words. "As you know, you're not really our son in blood. But that doesn't mean we love you any less. We love you as much as we love Dudley, and we've never treated you any different."

Dudley scrunched up his face at the conversation, trying to figure out where it was going. But Harrison only nodded. "I know that, mom," he replied, earning a smile from her.

"When your mother was eleven, she got her letter to Hog- Hog-" she shook her head and a nasty scowl overcame her lips, "to that nasty _school_."

A vein in Vernon's neck jumped at the mention of that freak school and Harrison grimaced as well. No one in the Dursley household liked hearing about _magic._ It was unnatural and freaky.

Petunia continued. "You know she accepted and studied to become – what she was. And all about her and your birth father; how they met and had you. Why they went into hiding and lost their lives..." she paused for a moment to honor her sister's memory, but made herself continue. "We've showed you the letter the Headmaster left us, so you know we've kept nothing from you."

Vernon took over because he wanted this conversation over and done with. "We figured moving away and into a more populated area would keep those freaks from coming to bother us. Apparently good people like us shouldn't think that those kinds of people would see the obvious that we wanted to be left alone." He frowned at the thought.

Harrison felt like he wanted to throw up. He clenched his hands into fists and forced himself to meet his father's clearly upset eyes. Even if he knew his dad loved him, he would never forgive himself for beinging any part similar to those freaks of nature. Even after ten years, there was still a small part in the back of his mind that hated himself. He didn't think he'd ever fully get over it.

His mother reached into the pouch of her apron and pulled out what looked to be an envelope. She turned it face side up and slid it onto the table in front of him. The address glared at him in emerald ink.

_Mr. H Potter_  
><em>Last bedroom on the second floor<em>  
><em>23 West Isle St.<em>  
><em>London, England<em>

"Burn it," he said, eyes locked on the paper, his voice shockingly cold. "I want nothing to do with it. Or them." He looked up into his dad's relieved gaze. "May I be excused?"

"Yes," his dad replied, deflating. "Why don't you both go play some video games? Your mother's almost done with dinner."

Harrison nodded and rose. He was too ashamed to look at his family right now and kept his head down. The footsteps behind him told him that Dudley had followed. He wasn't sure if he wanted company right now. He said as much. He really just wanted to wallow in self pity.

"Well, I'm not going to allow that," Dudley told him. "Come on," he said and wrapped an arm around Harrison's shoulder to steer him to the game room. "Let me kick your butt in Halo."

Harrison didn't smile, but let himself be dragged. He let Dudley make light of the mood and try to distract them. He even let his parents make small talk over dinner, but when the lights were out and he was alone in his bed, Harrison let himself cry.

Why was he a freak? Why did he have to have parents with magic? Why couldn't he just be _normal_? Hell, why wouldn't the wizarding world just leave him alone? He had been getting along just fine, pretending that he couldn't understand snakes and that he could die Dudley's hair blue with just a thought.

The memory of his revenge on Dudley made him smile, but only for a moment. Things like that weren't normal or natural. Magic wasn't natural. It didn't matter how many times Dudley told him he wasn't a freak, because that was what he was.

That night, Harrison didn't fall asleep until well into the morning.

A shrill scream awoke Harrison who screamed in shock and jerked out of bed. He fell to the floor with a thud and grumbled a complaint as he forced himself to rise, squinting around his room.

"Vernon!" his mother yelled and Harrison suddenly found himself entirely awake.

Snatching his glasses from his bedside, he flung away the sheets still caught on his legs and dashed out of his room, nearly slamming into Dudley who flew out of his room. They had only reached the bottom steps of the stairs when they saw their mom and dad in front of the door.

"Mom? Dad?" Harrison looked around, trying to see if someone had broken in or if something was missing, but couldn't tell. "What's wrong?"

"Kitchen, now," Vernon's voice broke no room for argument and both boys practically ran for the stools. Breakfast was already there, meaning their mom had probably been about to get them up.

While Dudley began to eat his plate, Harrison couldn't stomach a single bite, still upset from yesterday. Instead, he glanced around the pristine kitchen, admiring how clean and up-to-date it was. White and silver were everywhere and there was not a speck of dirt in sight.

Steps to his right alerted him and he watched his parents walk around the kitchen isle and face them.

Vernon slammed something down on the table which caused them both to jump. "I won't have this, do you hear me?!" he demanded, withdrawing his hand from the table. There, crumpled from his tight grip were three more letters, identical to yesterday's.

Harrison's blood drained from his face and his mouth went dry. "Why is this happening?" he asked, fighting frustrated tears. He just wanted to be left alone. He didn't care that he was 'magical' or some sort of hero of the people. He was just Harrison Dursley, loved son and brother. Nothing more!

He heard his dad take a few deep breaths to calm himself and then felt a hand on his shoulder. When he looked up, Vernon didn't look angry at him. At the situation? Most definitely. But Harrison couldn't detect a bit directed at him. "It's not your fault. It's theirs for not leaving us alone. They can't take a hint."

"Maybe you should open them," his mom said.

Harrison turned to gape at her. "What!? Why!?"

"Not like that," she frowned at him, not liking him yelling. "But to refuse. I don't know if there are ways for them to tell if the letter was opened or not."

Harrison scowled. "You'd think they'd be able to tell when a letter was burned," he replied.

His dad's hand squeezed approvingly on his shoulder and he was able to sit a little straighter in pride because of it. He let out a breath. "Okay," he said at least and reached for a letter. He stared at the address for a long moment. "How much power do these freaks have? They didn't even get my name right," he muttered, irritated.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted his mom smile tensely and heard Dudley snort.

"Just tell them to bugger off," Dudley said, careful not to speak with his mouth full. One thing their mother hadn't given up on despite their complaining was learning basic etiquette.

Harrison gave a laugh and nodded. He opened the envelope with a cringe, already hating everything it stood for. He unfolded the letter within and read to himself.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall  
>Deputy Headmistress<em>

Harrison sneered at the offensive paper. He felt contaminated just holding it. He turned it over to the blank side and looked at his dad. "Can I have a pen?" His father, who had been dressed for work already, reached inside his coat and pulled out a sleek, black pen and handed it over.

"Thanks," he said and began to write.

_Dear Deputy Headmistress,_

_I will not be attending your school this year, or any year. Please refrain from sending any more letters as they will be ignored._

Harrison paused here. It seemed like the wizarding world either didn't know about or care about his adoption. Should he sign his legal name? Or would they ignore the denial?

Scowling deeply, he finished with, _'Yours Sincerely, Harry James Potter,'_ a name he hadn't gone by in ten years.

He folded up the paper and stuck it back in the envelope, taking out the other two pieces. He carelessly scratched off the address. "Who do I send it to? I can't just put the name of that school down. The mail man would laugh his arse off."

His mother cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Actually, you can. They have ways of weeding out mail addressed to them."

Harrison's brow furrowed. "How do you know that?"

"It doesn't matter how I know!" she suddenly yelled. "Just do it and get that disgusting stuff out of our home!" She practically ran from the kitchen, leaving Harrison confused and hurt.

"Yes, mom," he replied even though she wouldn't hear. He finished off the address and handed it to his father who nodded.

"Good lad," he said and patted Harrison's shoulder. He did the same to Dudley. "See you both after work," he told them and left without another word.

Harrison didn't feel any better, but at least he didn't feel any worse. More than anything, he feared disappointing his adopted parents who loved and cared for him so much. He bit his lip to distract himself from the heat growing behind his eyes and shook his head. He needed a distraction.

"Want to go play soccer?" he asked, turning to Dudley.

Swallowing, Dudley pouted. "I haven't finished eating."

Harrison rolled his eyes and fought off a laugh. No matter what his brother said, he was certain Dudley would be a fat lump without him. He ate three times as much as a boy his age. It was a miracle there was constantly food in the house at all.

Their mother was a miracle worker. There was no doubt.

Harrison shook his head and sighed. He took his plate and gave it to Dudley. "Here, have mine. I'm not hungry." He stood up and crumpled the two remaining envelopes in his hands.

"You sure?" Dudley asked even as he scraped the food onto his own plate.

"Yeah. I'm going to my room. Just come get me when you're done." He threw the remaining letters in the trash as he went and quickly made to his room, eyes narrowed in anger and irritation at the whole situation.

Harrison practically fell onto his bed with a huff and threw his arms over his head. Above him, dozens of start stuck to his ceiling. They were dull from over-use, but the glow in the dark lights still shone from time to time, giving the boy who was once afraid of the dark some comfort.

He shifted to get comfortable when a rustling in his pocket made him freeze. His heart beat in his chest loudly and his breath left him. He laid still for an entire minute before warily reaching into his pocket. He had expected another haunting letter to appear on his person, but was relieved to see crumpled slips of paper.

Puzzled, Harrison unballed them only to see the other two sheets that had accompanied his letter. He didn't remember putting them in his pocket. He scowled at them as if they offended him, and really, they kind of did.

Harrison resisted the urge to roll them up and toss them in his trash, a sudden interest in what the curriculum was at a magic school.

He snorted. That sounded funny even in his head.

Harrison began humming a melody his mother had taught him as he smoothed out the papers on his chest. No harm in taking a look, right? He lifted the pages over his head to see the words. He was surprised to see that both pages were part of one whole list.

_First-year students will require:_

_Uniforms -  
>Three Sets of Plain Work Robes (Black) <em>

_One Plain Pointed Hat (Black) for day wear _

_One Pair of Protective Gloves (dragon hide or similar) _

_One Winter Cloak (Black, silver fastenings) _

_Please note that all student's clothes should carry name-tags at all times. _

_Books -  
><span>The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)<span>_ _by Miranda Goshawk _

_A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot _

_Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling _

_A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch _

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore _

_Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger _

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander _

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble _

_Other Equipment-  
>1 Wand <em>

_1 Cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) _

_1 set of glass or crystal phials _

_1 telescope _

_1 set of brass scales _

_Students may also bring an Owl OR a Cat OR a Toad. _

_**PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS. **_

What the bloody hell was this? Dragon hide? Transfiguration? Potions? A bloody _cauldron_!? Sneering heavily, Harry tossed the list into his trash bin. Utter rubbish, it was. All of it. Scowling when he couldn't get comfortable, he hollered, "You ready _yet_, Dudley!?"

"No shouting!" his mother's fierce voice shrilly reprimanded from downstairs.

Harrison cracked a smile despite himself.

* * *

><p><em>Please Review. :)<em>


	3. Chapter Three

_**The World Through Emerald Eyes**_

_**Chapter Three**_

Harrison was watching the telly with Dudley while their mother made breakfast. The past few days had been hard on all of them and there had been a strain that hadn't been there before. While Harrison knew it was his fault, no one made the slightest remark or gave the slightest of gestures to make him think they believed the same. To his family, it didn't matter that his birth-side was strange when it came to him as a person, only that the birth-side was interrupting their life.

How they compartmentalized those facts still amazed Harrison. If he didn't know his family so well, he would have thought they would throw him out on the street.

Harrison slouched in his seat a bit more, relaxing into their summer morning routine. He and Dudley always watched something while breakfast was made, they ate with their mom – and their dad when he was home on the weekend – and spent the rest of the day doing whatever they wanted.

He smirked a bit, an idea lighting up his head, and he elbowed Dudley to get his attention.

"What?" Dudley asked, half turned to the telly and half facing him.

Harrison nudged him again, a little harder, and smiled innocently when Dudley grunted and faced him with a frown. "Hey, want to meet Mike and Dan at the park today for a game?" His skin still itched with hallowed discomfort and a game would do wonders in forgetting it.

Dudley gave a shrug. "Don't care."

Harrison rolled his eyes fondly. "Okay," he replied with a grin.

There was a knock on the door that startled both boys. The telly was too loud to hear the door. They knew that from experience. Sharing a glance, Harrison held out his hand the same time Dudley did. As one, they said, "Rock, Paper, Scissors, shoot!"

Harrison scowled at his scissors when Dudley triumphantly banged them with his 'rock.' "Dammit," he muttered and slid off their comfortable couch. Why would Dudley change his usual 'paper' now? Damn prat. He glared when Dudley laughed and made a vague motion to flip his brother off. Unfortunately, that only made Dudley break out into a fit of laughter.

"Someone getting the door?" Their mother asked over the loud voices from the telly.

"I got it!" Harrison called back, finally accepting his fate and making quick work of getting the door. It was nine in the morning on a Sunday. Who was out of their house so early on a Sunday? In _summer? _Harrison opened the door easily and what he saw answered his own questions.

Wackos, that's who.

The man on their doorstep was old; like, ancient, old. His skin was wrinkled and his hair was pure white. As was his beard which hung down nearly to his waist without a trim. His clothes would have been out if style ten years ago and the color – Harrison shuddered. The color was an odd mix of purple, black and, what? Were those _yellow_ socks?

Harrison tried not to outright sneer at their company. This man didn't care how he was presented, but a Dursley was taught to always be dressed impeccably. Impressions were important, Harrison knew. His father had taught him and Dudley throughout their lives that it was important to dress your best and act even better because that's what people look for.

_'No one wants to talk to a homeless slump of a man or invite a wreck to their homes, you hear me?' _

Biting down a degrading comment, Harrison forced a polite smile. "Hello, sir. How can I help you?" If nothing else, reputation was important and Harrison wasn't about to taint his carefully constructed character.

"Ah, hello, my boy. This is the Dursley home, it is not?" The man's eyes were blue and twinkled down at him as he smiled happily down at Harrison.

Harrison shifted back, not liking the look in the slightest. "Yes. Is there something you need?"

The man shook his head. "No, not at all. I just need to speak with you, Harry. My name is Albus Dumbledore." The man held out a hand in offering.

Any polite smile fell from his lips and instead, he watched the man in horror. "Mom!" he screamed and battled the urge to slam the door in the man's – the _freak's_ face. "Mom! Dad!" he cried, terrified.

Politics and manners aside, Harrison was only eleven years old. No matter what his parents taught him, no matter how mature he felt, he knew that his parents would be there to handle anything he couldn't.

"Harrison!?" a shrill scream reached his ears, the comfort of his mother's voice paling only slightly in the wake of two sets of thundering steps; one from the living-room and one from the stairs. "What's wrong, honey?" his mother demanded as she rushed up to him.

No matter how worried his mom was about him, the moment she glanced at the man in front of her, she let out a scream that nearly shook the windows.

"Petunia? Harrison!? What's going on!?" asked his dad and a moment later, he was standing behind the two, with Dudley sliding to a stop right behind him. "What's all this yelling about? Are you alright?"

Harrison couldn't speak and only stared at the man in the doorway who was calmly humming, a gentle smile on his lips.

"Who are you?" his dad demanded roughly. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, scaring my family like that?"

Harrison saw the freak's eyes flicker to his for a moment, confusion and surprise lighting his features, before his smile grew. "I'm sorry to startle you and your family, Mr. Dursley. I didn't realize me coming would be such a surprise." He glanced inside the house curiously. "May I come in? We have a lot to discuss."

Harrison gaped at the man. How rude would a person have to be to practically invite himself into a home? Especially when it was so clear that he wasn't wanted.

"No, you must certainly may _not_ come into my home!" His dad's voice rumbled through them and Harrison felt himself relaxing into the presence of his father and his mother who was hugging him tightly to her. "Who the ruddy hell are you?"

"Ah! Excuse my manners." The man sounded surprise and gave a little laugh. "My name is Albus Dumbledore. I'm headmaster at Hogwarts, school of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Silence fell on the group and Harrison had only a thought that Dudley must have turned off the telly for it to be so quiet, when his father exploded.

"Get out! Get out of my home! You aren't wanted here! You and freaks like you aren't wanted in my home!" he yelled as he pushed trough his family, forcing them all to get behind his much wider self.

Albus's face didn't change from the kind and happy look it had, though Harrison saw his eyes widen slightly. He turned his head a fraction and stared straight at Harrison when he said, "Well then, I see no problem, then, as I am not a -what was that word? A 'freak'? I am a wizard." He grinned down at Harrison. "Just like you, Harry. You, who can make things happen that others can't. You're special."

Harrison glared at the man from the comfort of his mother's arms. He didn't like this man at all. Not how he looked or how he talked. And definitely not what he has done in the past. Did this crazy coot think his parents hadn't told him of his background? Did he think his words would interest him? Because they didn't.

"I think this conversation is at an end," his dad spat out, grabbing the door to slam it closed.

Albus turned to face Vernon and grinned. "I do too, thank you," he replied, and briskly walked into their home. "The entry way is a horrible place to have this talk, I agree."

Harrison's jaw dropped. What was this man thinking? If this was how all Wizards were, he was glad he was raised away from it.

"He meant, this conversation is over. No more. Get out of our house, freak!" Dudley told the elderly man, angry and stiff, clearly trying to be strong while actually being terrified.

Albus smiled at the man. "A tail, I should think." he commented out of nowhere. With a flick of his wrist, Harrison saw a pig's tail start to grow from Dudley's backside.

Harrison watched with wide eyes as Dudley screamed in horror, soon joined in by both his parents who tried to catch the upset boy. "Get if off! GET IF OFF!" he cried.

Albus smiled as if nothing was wrong or out of place around him and caught Harrison's eyes and winked.

Harrison's eyes darkened and for the first time, he felt anger building there instead of fear. "You think that's funny?" he demanded suddenly, voice dead cold.

He watched as Albus lost his mirth completely and his eyes widened once more, mouth opening a bit in surprise. "I'm sorry?" he asked, clearly shocked.

"Is that funny to you?" he gestured to Dudley who was still running around, hands trying to pull the tail from his body, but crying at the pain. He glared at the man. "Do you enjoy hurting people? Get rid of it! Stop hurting my brother!"

Albus's face closed in on itself and quickly became calculating. With a distracted motion, he waved his hand and only when the tail disappeared from a hysterical Dudley, did Harrison feel like he could breath through his rage. "I apologize, Harry. I only meant it as a harmless prank – gone in less than an hour, I promise you."

Harrison scowled at the man, his hands clenched at his sides. Sweat was building behind his neck and he was chilled on the inside in fear at what this man could be capable of.

"You're not surprised at magic, I see." Albus continued.

Harrison scoffed. "Why would I be?" He crossed his arms. "I know all about it. About my parents and the 'Dark Lord,' that killed them, what I can _do_ and everything else my mom and dad told me." He glared at the sitting man who appeared not to have a problem in the world and felt himself get angrier.

Just who did this man think he was? Interrupting a peaceful day – no, a peaceful _life_ – with his freakish stuff and expecting something out of them. No one in their right mind would do that.

Albus was quiet for a moment and his eyes grew suspicious. "I admit, I'm surprised they told you," he finally told him.

Harrison shrugged. "Well, they did. And I want no part of it. None." He watched alarm enter the man's eyes and felt a sick satisfaction enter his gut. "Didn't you get my response to your school's letter?"

"I... did," he admitted hesitantly.

"Then I don't see the problem," Harrison ground out. "That should have been the end of it."

Albus shook his head with a sigh, adapting a sad look. "I apologize, Harry. I had believed that your relatives had written that reply. To keep you ignorant, you see."

"Why would they do that?" he asked cockily. He shook his head, not even waiting for an answer. "As you can see, they didn't. I know about _magic_ and _your_ world. I won't be going." His words were final.

"There, you heard him!" his dad finally declared, having assured himself that the other part of his family was safe. "Now leave and never bother us again!"

Albus sighed again. "Unfortunately it isn't that simple."

"And why is that?" Harrison demanded.

The headmaster met Harrison's eyes and before his eyes, the old man seemed to age a decade – if it was possible. "I didn't want to have to tell you Harry. Not yet anyway when you are still so young. You should be enjoying your childhood. But," he added, glancing at the Dursleys surreptitiously, "I can see there is no way around it." He made a show of taking of his glasses and sighing forlornly.

Harrison grit his teeth to stop from snapping at the man. He was tired of the act the man was playing. He was a Dursley – putting on a show was practically what they did everyday. He could recognize one a mile away.

"There is a prophecy about you and the Dark Lord. It fortels that you will be the one to destroy him forever."

Harrison felt his eyebrow arch incredulously as he stared at the sitting man who sat so out of place in his life. "And?"

Albus blinked at him. "And what, Harry? You're needed in the wizarding world; we all need you. You are one of us and you should be taught to hone your gifts – the gifts your parents gave you."

"Listen here, you freak!" Vernon thundered.

"Vernon!" his mother tried to shush the man, but he wouldn't quiet.

"No! I won't have some dirty, disgusting person like this man tell us how to live our lives!" He turned on the sitting man who looked not even remotely worried and pointed at him. "You and _your_ kind left him on our doorstep without a care! Some sort of treatment for one you care so much about. You don't get to come in here and tell _my_ son that he will be attending a school with freaks against his will!"

Harrison felt a happy flush run over his face, a warm glow settling in his heart at his father's words. But it didn't last long. Albus's stance, having been relaxed, stiffen in his seat. "With all due respect, Mr. Dursley, you are not James Potter."

"Damn right, I'm not! I raised my sons right! Both of them grew up big and strong with a good head on their shoulders. We left your freakishness behind in Surrey and along with it, the recklessness of that idiot Potter and Petunia's sister's lapse in judgment in marrying him!"

Harrison saw the wizard loose part of that constant smile and rushed to distract the man. "Mr. Dumbledore, I am happy with my family here. That – thing about the Dark Lord and I is pointless, isn't it?" He tried to twist his mind to the man's skewed thinking which was not an easy task at all. Years of backtracking and dismissing thoughts of _magic_ and such made it difficult to curb the habit. "He died the same night as my birth parents, right?" He absentmindedly scratched lightly over the thunderbolt shaped scar under the fringe of his hair. He noticed when the man's eyes locked on the movement. "So it's done."

"I would like to think so, Harry, but I cannot." Harrison bit back the correction of his name,figuring it would be useless anyway. "I believe that Voldemort is back and searching for a way to regain power."

Harrison blanched bodily at that. "How would that be possible? If you're dead, you're dead."

"Freakishness, I tell you!" his dad exclaimed, face well on its way to becoming purple. "No one should be able to live after death! It's not natural!"

He watched Albus sigh. A stick fell into his hand out of no where and was suddenly pointed on his family. "Hey, what are you doing!?" Harrison demanded, running in front of his father, arms streatched out protectively though it wouldn't do any good.

"Just a silencing spell, I assure you. It's hard to speak to you with all this yelling. Surely it's bothering you too?" Albus asked cheerfully and more than a little curiously.

Harrison shook his head venomously. "Listen, I don't care if that is how your people do things, but you don't go around using m-ma-magic-" he choked on the unfamiliar and forbidden word - "on innocent people just to get what you want! My father never yells." At least not at Dudley and him or their mom. "Mr. Dumbledore," he ground out, emerald eyes blazing with anger, "I am happy here and I don't care what your world needs. I won't be going and I would _appreciate_ it, if you would take your leave now."

The man stared at him sadly. "I didn't want to do this, Harry." His stick disappeared, but he stood up and looked forlorn. "We left you with your relatives for your safety. Things were hectic after Voldemort was killed and we worried that you would be the target for rogue Death Eaters or overzealous fans."

"Yes?" Harrison felt sick again, a feeling he definitely didn't enjoy in the slightest.

Albus sighed again and Harrison fought the urge to yank on his hair in frustration. Enough with the theatrics already!

"Well, your parents willed you to Sirius, but he was only your Godfather. You have a Godmother as well; a Mrs. Longbottom. Your mother was her son's Godmother too. Your family wasn't the only one torn apart by the war however, and she and her husband both... lost the capability to take care of you."

"I don't see the point of this line of information, _sir,_" Harrison bit out. He felt his father's large hand settle on his shoulder. It felt both like an anchor and the chain, keeping him steady while also locking him in place.

The wizard pursed his lips for a moment, seeming to think. "By law, you wouldn't go to your muggle – nonmagic persons – you would go to Mrs. Longbottom's mother who acted as a witness to the signing of the agreement."

"But that doesn't make any sense!" Harrison shouted. "What law says that's possible? If the Godparents are unable to take care of me, than my other relatives should suffice."

"In any other case, yes. However, the Ministry of Magic would never allow Harry Potter to stay in the care of muggles. There would be an uproar in the public and an outcry of rage. You are a hero in our world, my boy, and hundreds of families would line up to adopt you if you chose not to live with Augusta."

Harrison's mind registered what had to be the name of his 'substitute Godmother' quickly before settling on the hard facts. Was this what blackmail felt like?

"You won't take my son from me," his mother spoke up now. Her voice was shaky with fear, but it didn't lack conviction. "I'll take this to court if you will. Harrison is our son and I'll reveal your freakish world before I let you take him."

"You won't have a choice." Harrison heard the words spoke as a simple fact when they should have sounded menacing. Was that possible? "Magic can do a great many things, Petunia. If you even hinted at possibly revealing our world, your fate would be out of my hands." He shook his head. "The Ministry takes care of risks, not I."

"So I don't have a choice?" Harrison asked then, turning the facts over in his head and coming up with the same conclusion.

"I'm sorry, Harry. But this is the way it is." Albus seemed genuinely upset at the outcome, but Harrison knew it could be for a dozen reasons. "But if you agree to come to Hogwarts willingly, to learn and practice magic with others, I have no doubt that you'll come to love it. It's where you belong."

"I belong here, with my family," Harrison replied, staring defiantly back at the tall man before him. He battled the frustrated tears that seemed to fight their way past his lids.

Albus smiled softly then. "And you still will. Every Summer and Christmas break, children can leave school to be with their families." He reached over and patted Harrison's free shoulder lightly. "I wouldn't and couldn't keep you from the ones you love. Happiness and love are the strongest emotions in the world and can define the very way we live." He grinned, instantly happy again.

"Now, Harry. Since your letter returned with a denial, there is no teacher scheduled to take you to get your supplies. However, I happen to have some time to spare and would be delighted in taking you myself. We can leave as soon as you're ready." He paused and looked down at Harrison over the rim of his glasses. "That is, if you've decided to go to Hogwarts after all."

Harrison swallowed once, then again. Both times it did nothing to sooth his throat. He looked over his shoulder as his scared family, but mostly at his angry father and the tears that his mother was shedding for him. He had done this to them. He had brought this into their lives even if it was unintentional or unknowingly done.

He met Dudley's pleading gaze and gave a completely fake smile that was weak and felt strange on his face. He blinked back the tears that arose and turned to face the man who was ruining his life and glared with watery eyes. "I'll go. Just let me get dressed."

Was it just him or did the sound of his footsteps on the stairs seem incredibly ill-boding?

* * *

><p><em>Please Review. :) Also, know that I sometimes reply to reviews that question or otherwise speculate on the story. So check your inbox. ;)<em>


	4. Chapter Four

_._

_**The World Through Emerald Eyes**_

_**Chapter Four **_

Harrison didn't say goodbye to his parents, too ashamed to turn and speak to them. But they knew he was coming back anyway, so he tried not to let it bother him. When the heat of the summer day warmed his chilled form, he took a deep breath to gather himself.

"Alright, my boy," Albus spoke, causing Harrison to face him, "off we go."

Harrison arched an eyebrow. "Where to?" Hogwarts didn't start for a month and he was certain they couldn't pick up a _cauldron_ in any shop in London.

Albus smiled down at him and chuckled, eyes gentling finally. "We're going to Diagon Alley."

Harrison stared at him. "Diagon Alley? Never heard of it."

"No, I suppose not," was all the man replied cryptically as he started down the stairs. "It's not in the muggle world," he continued when Harrison followed him.

The man was getting odd looks, even in London which was full of people who dressed weirdly and Harrison put as much space between himself and his... _headmaster_ as possible while still being able to converse. "Wait," he said, balking. "We're going to _that_ world?" he asked, alarmed. Suddenly all he wanted to do was run.

The headmaster just smiled absentmindedly as if nothing was amiss and Harrison felt lost. "Of course! Where else would we get your supplies to Hogwarts?" he asked happily. "We're lucky," he continued as if Harrison wasn't about to lose last night's dinner. "Since we're going so early, we'll miss the student rush. Most people won't be expecting you to be getting your supplies yet so we won't have to fight off the hype of your return."

"My return?" Harrison sneered. It wasn't as if he was willing. "Because I'm the defeater of this Voldemort, right?"

The man side-eyed him. "Indeed. You're known as the Boy-Who-Lived." He looked forward again. "Harry, while I applaud you for the use of his name, many people in our world fear it. While wonderful that you can say it, I would advise you to keep quiet when around people you do not know."

Harrison frowned. "Fear what? You said they fear 'it'."

The headmaster sighed. "Unfortunately, wizards fear everything to do with Voldemort, including his name."

"His... name." Harrison stared disbelievingly at the man. "You're saying an entire population of fre- _magic_ users-" he was careful to hiss it under his breath, "-are afraid of a word. A name. Seriously? Why?"

The man smiled slightly, as if please with his questions. "Magic, Harry," the man said happily, carelessly to the world. Harrison's head snapped up to gape at the man in shock at his blatant statement and rushed to look around. No one seemed to be paying them more attention that what the headmaster's outfit seemed due and Harrison felt his heart start again.

"Can you say that so carelessly!?" he demanded. "Aren't you worried about – you know – exposure?"

The man grinned. "Ah. Muggles are amazing people. They hear only what they want to hear and force the rest to fit common logic." He was at ease amongst the people around him and Harrison fought off another sneer, this one aimed directly at the man.

"Yeah, amazing," he repeated without feeling.

"Indeed. It makes it surprisingly easy to hide in plain sight. Of course, we use notice-me-not spells and wards to repel muggles from accidentally finding and stumbling upon our world, but we truly exist right alongside them."

Harrison frowned, wondering how many people he interacted with that might have been magical all along. He felt like he'd been tricked into playing with a kid with some contagious disease. He didn't like it at all. "And we're going there now? How do we get there? Where is it?" Better to know to avoid it in the future.

"Ah, well that's a perk about you living in London, my boy. The entrance to Diagon is actually just a few more blocks."

Harrison's face, had the headmaster bothered to glance back, would have been set in horror.

"Speaking of which," the man started on another direction and cast a searching look into Harrison's semi-put together face, "I was surprised to find that your family had moved."

Harrison snorted. "Really? I don't find it that shocking. Why would they stay?"

The headmaster stopped walking and turned to face him head on. "Harry, it was imperative that your family stay beneath the blood wards your mother's sacrifice gave you. You were protected there, better than anywhere else you could have possible been. I added wards myself to ensure you were all safe. I explained that in the letter. Do you remember?"

Did the man sound stressed? Or better yet, frustrated? Harrison sighed and mentally rolled his eyes. "I am not a senseless child, _sir_. I remember the letter. I said they showed it to me, didn't I?" He crossed his arms and stared hard at the man. "It didn't matter what you said. Mom and dad didn't want to stay. And well, would you look at that!" he mocked, eyes going wide as he exaggeratedly smiled and looked down at himself. "I'm perfectly fine!" His smile fell off his lips when he met the headmasters disapproving gaze and he scoffed, but submissively looked down.

He heard the headmaster sigh lightly and he glanced up, seeing the man appear to give up and turn around. "Come, Harry," he gestured. "We're almost there."

Harrison followed behind him, glaring at the man's back. He listened to his teachers out of respect and his parents out of love as well as that respect. He didn't like having to obey someone out of fear of what they would do if he didn't.

"Harry?"

Harrison debated whether or not to even reply to the incorrect name. "Yes?" he asked tiredly.

"Why do you call your aunt and uncle 'Mom,' and 'Dad,'? You are clearly aware that they are not your parents. Don't you think that maybe it might be a dishonor to your real parents?" Dumbledore prodded, not looking at him.

Frowning up at the man, Harrison replied slowly, thinking. "No. I mean, Mom- er, my _aunt_- raised me as if I _was_ her son. She and d- my _uncle_-" he huffed in irritation, "- _they_ took care of me and loved me like I was a Dursley. My real parents are dead." He shrugged. "They're not feeling anything."

The headmaster stopped again and turned with a horrified expression. "Harry!"

Harrison scowled. "And while we're on terms and names, sir, my name is Harrison. Not Harry." He stood tall and raised his head back a little, challenging.

The man sighed. "Harry-"

"_Harrison_, headmaster. I just said my name is Harrison."

Albus Dumbledore might look like am old stranger, but when he pursed his lips and looked over his glasses at him, Harrison got the distinct impression that the man wished to be a disapproving role model. Not bloody likely.

"My boy, you were born Harry James Potter – a strong house indeed. Your father and mother were both powerful and loved by many people. Shunning that name is like shunning your home and your family."

Harrison shook his head stubbornly. "I may be a Potter by blood and birth, but I'm also an Evans. And Evans is part Dursley. I was raised Dursley and loved as a Dursley. They _are_ my home; my family. I love my mom and dad, headmaster. And with all respect due, that is none of your business as a school official." He crossed his arms and bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from backing down in the face of a powerful and experienced magic user.

The man's frown was deep enough to cause more wrinkles in the old face. Dumbledore made a sound that Harrison would call a _tisk_ and it caused his hackles to rise at the audacity of the stranger. "Well, be that as it may, you are known as a Potter, Harry, and in our world, we won't recognize the name change from magical to muggle unless it's done by a magical relative or by yourself when you come of age – which is seventeen."

Harrison's blood boiled below the surface and he was practically spitting flames. "I hardly see that as fair."

"Mmm," was his response before Dumbledore left him as he turned the block, expecting Harrison to follow.

Grudgingly, he did. "Can't my family contact this – this Ministry and inform them? It was a legal adoption. Surely they would recognize that!" Not that his family wanted anything to do with freaks, but he was sure his mom would at least sign her name is he wrote up the letter and sent it.

"Of course they do, Harry. But you keep forgetting that you are a special case." A happy smile came to Dumbledore's lips which caused Harrison to scowl. "You are a public figure. Famous! Surely those muggle tabloids have shown you that things like that never change much. Once someone is _known_, changing a name is difficult. Actually, don't most American actresses keep their full name despite marrying another?"

Harrison's jaw dropped in disbelief. "Sir... Did you just – you read tabloids?" He wasn't sure how to address the subject. The simple statement had too many odd points for Harrison to look at them all. He kept tabs on normal peoples' activities? He read American tabloids and magazines like People and US? He knew movie actresses? What the hell?

The man gave a chuckle. "Why of course! There are some that have lovely knitting lessons and patterns I enjoy learning." His smile was joyful.

Harrison just stared at him.

"Here we are!" Dumbledore finally exclaimed, clapping his hands together once and grinning ahead of him.

Snapping out of his complete bemusement, Harrison glanced forward an saw an old, broken down pub. He wrinkled his nose distastefully. No one of his standing would ever be seen walking into such a place. "_This _is the entrance to Diagon Alley?" he asked dubiously. The wizarding world wasn't shaping up to be much, was it?

Dumbledore laughed. "No, it's just the in between. Come along, Harry. We must make haste." He walked forward but glanced back when Harrison interrupted him.

"Sir, I'm only eleven. I'm not allowed in a pub. People – people will notice." he sounded heavily displeased and glanced about him, noting how many people would be able to see such a fall from grace. No member of upstanding society would be caught dead at such a place.

"Worry not, my boy. Muggles don't even see this place. To them, it's a rotted building with cautionary signs prohibiting entrance. Come along," he repeated.

With a puzzled look, Harrison followed, glancing around him again and seeing that, yes, no one even spotted him or his companion. It was like they weren't even there. "How do you stop the delinquents then? Or the homeless from entering?" It wasn't like they cared about warnings or laws.

"Magic," was the merry reply and Harrison blinked at the man for a moment before he frowned and rolled his eyes.

"Albus!" a deep voice erupted, scaring Harrison into jumping a little. The man wore an apron and was setting down a polished glass that, despite the treatment, was still dirty. Probably because the rag he was using was dirtier than the glass.

Harrison was repulsed and tried to not let his displeasure show at how uncared for the entire establishment was.

"Hello Tom," his headmaster replied joyfully. "It's good to see you."

"You as well, sir! Been months since your last stop! What's the cause today? Here for your usual?" the dirty man asked, reaching for the glass he had just set down in readiness.

"No, unfortunately not. Just helping a new student get his supplies early. Minerva was unavailable and this young lad would only be free today."

Harrison met the eyes of the fat man behind the counter blankly when he leaned over the counter to inspect him.

"That so? Getting an early start, right laddy? Always good. Perhaps you'll be in Ravenclaw like my son! Graduated last year. Smart boy." He smiled wistfully for a moment then wagged a finger in Harrison's direction. "Just remember, studying isn't everything."

"...Right," Harrison replied out of politeness, voice tense.

Dumbledore chuckled and settled a hand on his shoulder and began to steer him towards the back of the pub. "Must be off, I'm afraid. Next time, Tom," he called out cheerfully. They passed curious, but easily dismissive stairs on they way and Harrison only let out a breath when they exited the grunge-laid place.

"That place is disgusting," he snapped, almost unable to contain the statement anymore. "How do people even go there to drink!?"

Dumbledore eyed him disapprovingly. "The Leaky Cauldron has been in business for years. Tom's family founded it decades ago. I'm sure it could stand to use some scrubbing, but it's a lovely place."

Harrison's face twisted, seeing the man in an even more disgusted light. "Go there often, do you?" he asked and watched, heart making a sudden jolt when the man pulled out his stick – no, his _wand_. Right. It had been on his list. He shuddered.

"Mm. Sometimes. I do enjoy a good butterbeer." He smiled down at Harrison gently. "But that will be our little secret." He winked at him then focused on the brick wall at the end of the space.

Harrison looked around, confused. It wasn't a big space. In fact, with the trashcans, the space made him feel claustrophobic. When he opened his mouth to say so, he spotted the man tapping the bricks with his wand. After a moment when he stepped back, Harrison saw them beginning to move.

"Ah!" he exclaimed and stumbled back into the door behind him. "What the bloody hell!?" he stared as the bricks arranged them self slowly to form an open archway with wide and fearful eyes. Deep down in the emerald gaze however, there was a spark of something else behind the sleek frames.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley," Dumbledore said, gesturing lightly for Harrison to enter.

From his spot huddled on the wall, Harrison couldn't see anything, but the sudden barrage of noise had his curiosity fighting his fear. Cautiously, he stood up straight, face half frightened and half shocked. Casting a questioning look at his headmaster who nodded encouragingly, Harrison sucked in a deep breath and forced confident and smooth steps to the opening.

Glancing around the corner, Harrison's face went slack in awe. Hundreds of people busied themselves on the street of the cramped alley, bustling from store to store. They all wore strange clothes – robes, he thought. Some even wore pointy hats like the traditional idea and that caused Harrison to snicker despite himself.

When Dumbledore chuckled at his interest, Harrison shook himself and turned onto the street to appear confident and put together. He tried to blank his face but his eyes were everywhere, trying to take in everything at once and then having to look back to see something again to make sure he saw it right.

Was that a broom shop? Were those pictures _moving_!? Did that piece of chocolate just jump at the window of the store?!

Harrison's heart was pounding in his ears and his face flushed with excitement. Everything was so strange and _cool_ but at the same time, he tried to real himself in, feeling ashamed. This stuff was freakish. He shouldn't think it was cool. How old was he, anyway? Eight? He was too old to be wowed anymore. At least that was his eleven year old mentality.

Harrison fought with the desire to touch and see everything in the alley and the want to head home and pretend this world had been a dream and say it was a nightmare. He sighed and looked down at his shoes to keep from seeing the interesting things around him. That was the freak part of him that liked all this. Not the normal side. Not the Dursley side.

He glared at the street, following back of his headmaster's shoes to know where he was going. His mood had dropped suddenly and because he refused to look up, he missed the pitying and concerned look Dumbledore gave him.

"Are you alright?" the man asked him.

Harrison scoffed audibly. "Peachy, sir," he replied sarcastically.

"Well, we're about to enter the bank, so you might want to see where you're going," the man replied, a laugh in his voice.

"Bank?" he asked dumbly. It suddenly occurred to him that he didn't have much money on him. Did twenty-five pounds count as a lot in this world?

"Yes, Harry. To get money from your trust fund." The man smiled at him.

"My trust?" Harrison repeated again. "What trust fund?"

"The one your parents left you of course!" Dumbledore replied happily. "Surely, you didn't think they left you nothing, did you?" He smiled and walked up the steps towards the huge open doors at the top.

Harrison took the moment to look up at his surroundings. 'They left me, didn't they? Why would I think they left me anything?' he thought casually as he eyed the leaning columns holding up the huge white marble bank. He idly wondered if that was safe before joining the waiting man.

"Now Harry," Dumbledore told him, putting a hand on his shoulder and leaning down to his eye level, "I need to tell you that this bank isn't what you're used to."

"No?" Harrison asked mockingly.

Either the man didn't realized he was being insulted or didn't care since he pressed on. "It's run by goblins-"

"_Goblins!?"_

"- and they aren't exactly the friendliest type. It is best to not catch the eye of one you are not discussing your accounts with. Never interrupt them. They are easily offended."

Harrison's jaw was reaching for the floor while the man continued on unaware. "In fact, you can just let me do the talking, alright?" He waited for Harrison to nod which he did after several long moments. "Good! Follow me!"

Together they walked through the large and extravagant doors and this time, Harrison couldn't look down. The sight inside was magnificent! Huge ceilings and pillars made of shinning marble caught his attention second to the amount of gold that seemed to be on the desks of every worker. The first thing he took in however, were the short, wrinkled, and down right malicious looking figures that were busy with the work of their station. They possessed long noses and pointed ears and long fingers with sharp, yellowed nails. They had beedy little eyes and, despite how grotesque they appeared, Harrison was able to muster up a smirk. Now _these_ looked like the people you wanted to hold your money. They didn't take shit from anyone.

His Dad would have loved this – if they were human and normal. Harrison would know – his father had taught them the aspects of good banking when they were old enough to ask for their first pound. _'Always show respect to the person who controls your money because you never know when you'll need to be in their good graces.'_

While looking around, Harrison almost bumped into his headmaster when the man came to a stop. Luckily he was able to steady himself and find that they had reached a stand at the back of the room. Dumbledore smiled pleasantly at the creature and just waited.

After a moment, he began to hum quietly to himself, the smile never leaving his lips.

Harrison stared at him like he was insane. The thing – goblin, right – was noting something down and seemed more than happy to ignore them which upset him. A Dursley wasn't ignored. Harrison looked between them before hesitating. He sucked in a breath, squared his shoulders and stepped out of Dumbledore's shadow to approach the desk. "I'm sorry, sir," he said as kindly and innocently as he could, smiling softly at the thing when it looked up.

Harrison wanted to whither under the irritated glance of the ugly creature, but placed the polite and happy mask he had mastered as a kid in place. "I don't mean to interrupt you, sir," he told the goblin respectfully, but I've never been to this bank before. Could you tell me how to go about making a withdrawal from a trust fund left to me by my parents?"

The creature eyes him darkly and his voice was pure cruelty when he replied, "What is your name, boy?"

Keeping his father's words in mind and ignoring the disappointed look the headmaster shot him, Harrison replied, "My legal name is Harrison Dursley, sir. But my biological name is Harry Potter."

Those black eyes narrowed as they glared down at him. "Harry Potter," he hissed out. Harrison couldn't tell if he was maliciously happy or inexcusably offended. He leaned back in his seat and rested one long hand against his cheek as he eyed Harrison. "Not many wizards would address a goblin as 'Sir,' Mr. Potter."

Harrison smiled. "I am not like a normal wizard, sir."

A vicious smile appeared slowly, sharp teeth gleaming from the creatures mouth. "Indeed not." He seemed amused, Harrison thought, but he couldn't be sure. "Very well. Do you have your key?"

His key? Before he could ask, Dumbledore cleared his throat, getting the attention of the little creature. "I have it right here," he responded, taking out a key and laying it on the desk in front of them.

Harrison's eyes narrowed on the gold key. Why did Dumbledore have his key? What kind of headmaster keeps the keys of student's bank accounts? He's have to find out, he knew as he turned to glare at the old man suspiciously.

"There's something else, too, if you don't mind," he continued and took out an envelope to hand to the man. He appeared at ease, but Harrison had to wonder at that when, upon seeing the envelope, the goblin seemed to pale.

"Of course," it said suddenly. He turned and motioned behind him to another goblin Harrison hadn't spotted and resisted a sneer at the thing. "Griphook, takes these two to vault 713 and 687."

The new goblin, Griphook apparently, nodded obediently to the one who must have been his superior. He turned to Harrison and Dumbledore and motioned them towards a hallway. "Follow me, please." His voice was higher than expected and Harrison blinked in surprise.

Turning to the first creature, and spotting the name plate, Harrison put on a small smile. "Thank you, sir," he said with a polite nod in respect and followed the retreating figures down the hall. He didn't see Castiron's stare following him quizzically.

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><p>Please review!<p> 


	5. Chapter Five

_._

_**The World Through Emerald Eyes**_

_**Chapter Four **_

Harrison stared at the rickety... cart dubiously. He didn't think it looked stable enough to carry one person, let alone three. But when Dumbledore easily got in after the goblin, Harrison joined hesitantly. While it creaked loudly, it held. He took a shaky breath. Was it really safe?

As it turned out, he didn't get to ask since almost immediately the cart took off at neck-breaking speed through the hallway. Part of him was terrified and his hands shot out to hold onto the sides of the cart for dear life. But another part was reminded of the roller coasters he and Dudley would ride at the amusement parks during Summer. He didn't release his death grip , but a small smile made itself known on his lips.

His eyes were wide open at the sights that passed. He noticed the exact moment when expensive walls gave way to rock and the air around him grew colder. Suddenly, lights appeared on the cart and revealed exactly that – expansive space that appeared to be a cave. Or a mountain, if the amount of space was any indication.

A loud sound caught his attention to his left and when he glanced over, he saw another cart veering out of nowhere. He screamed in fear of a collision, but right before they made contact, he was jerked sharpy left and felt himself drop with the cart as it descended into what appeared to be a tunnel. It was then that he saw the tracks the cart seemed to be attached to. The tunnel gave way to another part of open space and he saw dozens of tracks with fast moving carts sliding around just as his was.

Before he could wonder about the safety of the situation, he let out a sharp, "Umph!" when the cart halted unexpectedly and tossed him against its front. He groaned in pain and looked up when the goblin exited the cart with a lamp in his hands. Exactly how was he capable of moving after a ride like that?!

Dumbledore followed with a small smile that never seemed to leave his face and Harrison had no choice but to join them. His legs felt like jelly under him and his stomach twisted itself in knots. He should be glad he didn't have anything in his stomach at the moment because he was sure he would have tossed it that moment.

"Key, please," the high voice suddenly spoke, and Harrison watched as Dumbledore took it from his robes and handed it to the creature.

Pursing his lips in irritation, Harrison fought his sickness and stepped up beside the elder man to watch the creature approach a large steel door. "Where are we?" he found himself asking, looking at the old door curiously.

"We're in back of Gringotts," Dumbledore replied easily with a grin down at him. "Each account is held in the mountain they protect."

So he had been right. It really was a mountain. "This seems so... unbelievable," he muttered to himself.

Dumbledore heard him and gave a light laugh. "I thought the same thing upon hearing about how a muggle bank worked. Computers? Electronic money?" He shook his head. "Ingenious!"

Harrison frowned and cast another glance at the door. "So you mean..." He took in the carved '687' above the door. He started again. "You're saying that each of these... doors is an account?"

The man hummed in agreement. "There are thousands of _vaults_," he corrected the word, "and each hold the money of the family or person. Some don't even have money, but are used to hold and protect precious items or anything of value."

Harrison's jaw dropped when the goblin reached over and seemed to move something from the door which revealed a keyhole. All his trust money was actually inside that door? All of it? He was no stranger to how things worked in a normal bank. He knew that most money was actually in computers and the amount of 'cash' money or coin that banks handed out was only a percentage of what was actually totaled. If every person in the world was to withdraw all they money from every bank, there would be enough to be handed out. And to think that every ounce of currency of every family was actually represented sort of boggled his mind.

The goblin removed the key after turning it and handed it back to them. Right as Dumbledore reached for it, Harrison easily rushed forward and grabbed it from the creature's hand. "Thank you," he replied, hiding his shudder at the feel of the wrinkled skin that made contact with his own.

Dumbledore frowned. "Harry, I think I should hold onto your key. If you lost it, your accounts would be frozen until they could locate it or make a new one and change your lock and the charms on your vault."

Harrison pocket the key defiantly and met the man's stare cooly. "I think I can handle it, sir," he commended, fighting the urge to cross his arms. "I've had a bank account I can access for a year already. Responsibility is something I have in spades." Mainly because he didn't trust anyone but his family with his money. No way in hell was he going to allow this stranger who already had control of his life hold the access to his money.

The door swung open before the man could reply, though by the disapproving look the man sent him, he knew it probably wouldn't be the last he would hear of it. He ignored him and turned to the sight revealed and his mouth fell open.

Gold. Actual gold. Piles and piles of it. Bloody hell.

Harrison stepped up cautiously to the entrance and took in the immense about of money he had. Upon closer inspection, he noted that there were also columns of silver coins and heaps of bronze looking ones as well. "What is this?" he asked.

"The gold ones are Galleons," Dumbledore explained. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle. The Knuts are the smaller ones."

Yeah, he could have guessed that. Harrison mentally rolled his eyes, but let it go. His emerald eyes glanced around the decently sized room that was lined with money. "Is that real gold?" he asked softly, picking up a gold coin hesitantly. It felt heavy in his hand.

The higher voice of the goblin answered, sounding offended. "Of course it is real!"

Harrison glanced at the creature, seeing him frowning and looking somewhat murderous. Wow. He hadn't expected that reaction. But then again, he had been warmed about their attitude. He cast a glance at Dumbledore before he swallowed. "I apologize," he grudgingly replied, reminding himself to be respectful. It had won him points with the goblin upstairs, so he didn't think it could hurt here. "I meant, is it the same kind of gold as we- er, muggles- use?"

The goblin glared at him, but the heated emotion in his eyes seemed to cool slightly. "The exchange rate for wizarding currency to muggle is different," he acknowledged. "One bronze Knut is about two cents, a silver Sickle is fifty-seven cents, and a gold Galleon is nine dollars and seventy-five cents."

Harrison tilted his head, doing the math. It was obvious that the worth here wasn't as much as it would be in the muggle world. If he actually took a gold coin to the muggle world and sold it, it would be worth much more. He mentally shrugged his shoulders. So the question was how much money did he have here?

He turned to face Dumbledore who still stood outside the vault door. While he was glad the man didn't have the audacity to enter a room full of his money, he wondered if it was out of curtsey – not bloody likely – or if it were the charms the man mentioned earlier. He scoffed to himself. It was probably the later.

"How much is school, sir?" He imagined the the most _prestigious_ school in the Wizarding World would cost a lot.

Dumbledore smiled. "Not to worry Harry. Your schooling was already paid for by your parents upon your birth. We're just here to collect money for your supplies."

Harrison narrowed his eyes, but let it go. Better his parents take the money out than have to let the man standing before him have his hands on it, he supposed. "Okay. How much should I bring?"

The goblin walked over to one of the walls before the man answered. He grabbed a small bag that sat unassuming in the corner on a stand Harrison hadn't noticed before. "This is an enchanted bag that allows you to pull out the amount of money you need at any time. As long as you have it in your vault, it will be available. Every transaction is traced and noted in our archives." He handed the bag to Harrison who picked it up delicately. "It is charmed to only be usable to a Potter and if it is lost or taken, it disappears and reappears here in your vault."

Harrison found himself awed despite himself. That was incredibly convenient. He didn't think it would have been possible to lug a large amount of coins around with him every day or that he would have to go back to the bank for more money every time he ran out. The bag was small and could easily fit in his pocket which he did while admiring the incredibly soft material is was made of. It wasn't normal silk, that was sure. And the black color was incredibly dark.

He took a deep breath, feeling it sit lightly in his pocket, but also keenly aware of something freakish so close to him. The weight of it in his mind was much worse. "Thank you," he told the goblin with a nod.

The creature simply nodded and together they exited the vault which closed behind them, locking with a resounding and satisfying click. He swiftly entered the cart and ignored the man who kept staring at him with disapproval. Really, it was getting on his nerves.

There next stop was vault 713 which Harrison had forgotten about until the quick trip jerked him to a stop in front of it.

Dumbledore stood. "No need to join me here, Harry. I just need to collect something." He smiled easily and followed the goblin who held up a hand suddenly.

"Stand back!" he demanded harshly before dragging a claw down the middle of the door. A series of clicks could be heard before it opens slowly.

From where he sat, Harrison got a glance of a dark room with a table in the middle. The only other thing he saw was a small wrapped package sitting on top. That was it. He frowned, curious.

Dumbledore entered and easily picked it up and slipped it into his jacket. He left the room immediately and rejoined Harrison right after. "No need to mention this extra stop to anyone," he said with a smile. "It will be our secret, yes?"

While curious, Harrison scowled. "Why would I tell people things that aren't my business in the first place?" he replied, insulted.

The man clearly didn't pick up on his tone and simply nodded. "True, true," was all he said.

Harrison's scowl remained for the entirety of their return trip to the surface and he was eager to leave the man's presence. He was surprised to find he wasn't sick anymore, but decided not to question it, thankful.

The walk back to the entrance hall was too long for Harrison who was ready for the day to be over already. Having to hide his dislike for both the goblin and the headmaster was frustrating and he just wanted to fall onto his bed and forget about this nightmare of a day.

A small part of his mind reminded him that there were something he had enjoyed, but he resolutely ignored it.

When Harrison entered the familiar room, he was surprised to see a... giant of a man who looked as unkempt as he did stupid. He sat idly on a chair that looked to be a bench originally made for several people. Figuring they would pass him by, Harrison was annoyed to find Dumbledore approaching him instead.

Harrison let out a deep sigh and rubbed his eyes behind his glasses. Really? _Really?_

They greeted each other cheerfully and Dumbledore gestured for him to come over, his smile bigger and more sincere than before. Good to know.

He reluctantly walked over and jumped at the sudden, "'Arry!" that escaped the man's mouth excitedly. "'Aven't seen yeh since yeh were a baby! But yeh look just like James did." His smile was wide and his large hand came to rest heavily on his shoulder.

Harrison scrunched up his nose at the man's obvious accent, but otherwise let it go. "I've been told once, yes." He nodded. "Though I have my mother's eyes."

The large man nodded. "Tha' yeh do!" He smiled. "Name's Hagrid. Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."

Harrison nodded again. "Nice to meet you," he replied automatically.

"Harry," Dumbledore spoke, gaining his attention. "I have some business to take care of that seems to have come up." He gestured to the man beside him. "Hagrid will escort you from here to get your things." He smiled, but it lost some brightness at Harrison's look of horror. "You'll be fine with him, I promise you that." He patted Harrison's shoulder twice quickly. "I look forward to seeing you on September first, my boy!"

Harrison watched the crazy man go with shock. Was he seriously going to leave him here with a stranger? He swallowed his irritation and a bit of fear before glancing up at the large man. Wasn't he just going to draw attention to them? "I thought the intention of going today was to avoid people seeing me."

Hagrid smiled down at him. "Don' yeh worry 'bout nothin', 'Arry. People don' take much notice of meh."

Harrison snorted before he could help himself. He saw people already casting curious glances their way. "I find that hard to believe," he muttered harshly.

Hagrid apparently didn't have Dumbledore's keen hearing as he didn't hear his words and instead made to turn. "Lots ter buy today! Best be off!" Right as he reached down to place a hand on Harrison's shoulder, no doubt to escort him the rest of the way, Harrison dodged away from him.

"Actually, I'm not done yet. I need to speak to my account manager." He hoped the term was the same here as it was in his world. It would make things much easier.

The man frowned. "Why would yeh need ter do tha'?"

Harrison frowned right back. "That's none of your business, I think." Why did everyone want to know his business? He shook his head. "I'll be back," he said and turned without a blink. He ignored the giant man's call for him to come back and made for Castiron's desk once more. He had a right to his things. Everyone needed to stop acting like they did too.

He huffed and rolled his eyes when he was sure no one was looking. If the... thing – because really, could he be called a man? – wanted to wait while he was finishing his business, that was his prerogative.

Harrison approached the desk, once more finding it without customers, and stood before the goblin. He was prepared to wait a minute, but almost at once, the creature's eyes flickered up to see him.

Setting aside his writing utensil and sitting back, the goblin smiled darkly down at him. "Ah, Mr. Potter. Finished your visit?" His words were harsh, but they held a smug or amused tint to them that Harrison didn't understand.

He nodded. "For the most part, yes. Thank you." He saw the smile falter slightly and inwardly smirked as it loosened enough to look more like a frown. "However, I was wondering if I could speak to an account manager?" he phrased it like a question.

The goblin glared and sat up straight. "Is there something wrong?" he demanded to know.

Harrison was startled, but he couldn't help liking how they reacted to possible issues or infractions. He added another appreciative though at having goblins watch his money. "Not that I am aware of," he responded with a shake. "But I am unaware of my current balance and was hoping to speak with someone."

"You haven't been getting your reports?"

Harrison blinked. "What reports?"

The goblin sneered, but not at him. "We send monthly reports to all families whose vaults we oversee. The fact that you haven't received any is quite concerning." His nails dug into the wood at his desk absentmindedly in his fury and Harrison stared as they made long grooves in the polish.

"Griphook!" Castiron suddenly called. The now familiar goblin rushed to his side.

"Sir?"

"Get Metalbite immediately. He is to meet Mr. Potter in room 235." Griphook nodded and ran off.

Castiron stood and left his station. He disappeared for a moment before appearing from behind the desk, now several feet closer to the ground. "Follow me," he demanded curtly and immediately started walking.

Harrison was quick to follow and was brought to a large door with the number 235 displayed above it. "Please wait in here. Your account manager will be with you shortly and we will have this matter dealt with immediately."

Harrison could tell the creature took him not receiving his reports personally. "Thank you," he said again, this time actually sincere. "I appreciate your timely response."

The goblin eyed him. "It is our job. No one interferes with Gringotts business."

He watched the goblin walk off before turning and entering the room. He was taken aback at the sheer size of it all, but he was guessing that the lavish and ostentatious appearance was just Gringotts fashion. He didn't have time to walk around because a goblin swept into the room right behind him, a large book and several papers held in tight fists.

"Mr. Potter," the goblin greeted upon seeing him. He placed the items on a table between two seats and nodded in his direction.

"Metalbite, I assume," Harrison responded, biting the inside of his cheek as he held out his hand in offering.

Like Castiron before him, Metalbite seemed taken aback at his politeness, but reached out and shook his hand nevertheless. He gestured to one of the chairs. "Please sit," he requested, taking the other and sorting his papers.

Harrison did so easily, finding the chair comfortable. Not surprising with how expensive it looked. He sat straight and crossed his legs in an imitation of a proper gentleman.

"To get right to the point, Mr. Potter, it is alarming that you haven't received your reports. When was the last time you received one?"

"Never," Harrison replied after a moment. "I wasn't aware I even had an account – or vault, I should say – with Gringotts until today when Headmaster Dumbledore brought me."

"Hmm." Metalbite noted something down. "That's curious. Your godparents should have received them and shared them with you. Usually children under the care of others would become active in their vault transaction by age ten so they can begin to understand how to handle things when they reach seventeen."

Harrison shook his head. "My Godfather is in prison and my Godmother, as I was told, is unable to take care of me. I've been staying with my muggle relatives. Could that be why?"

The goblin didn't seem surprised at the news about his godparents, only at where he currently was. "Muggles?" He moved some papers around and grabbed one closer to the bottom of the pile. "The will of your parents doesn't mention any muggle relatives as acceptable to take care of you."

Harrison jerked forward. "My parents had a will?" He had to stop himself from snapping it out of the creature's hand. He hadn't known that.

"They did," he said. "Everything was left to you. The official will is kept in our archives, but I have a copy here for you." He didn't hand it over, but instead continued. "Being in the care of muggles wouldn't stop our reports, but we should have been notified of the change." His lips pursed as he stared down at the information in front of him. "It says here that your reports are sent to your magical guardian."

"Augusta?" Harrison guessed, scowling.

"No. Albus Dumbledore."

* * *

><p><em>Hello everyone! I apologize for the long wait. I'm working more hours a week now and college starts in a month so I haven't been writing much (at all) but here chapter five is. I hope you like it! Please review!<em>


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